Blackout
by Shon-Shon
Summary: Like a switch turning off, the world was thrown back into the dark ages where there's no use of technology. 15 years later the blackout continued. A group sets out to rescue Sam, and to overthrow the militia. All the while, they explore the enduring mystery of why the power failed, and if – or how – it will ever return. Based on NBC's Revolution.
1. The Journey Begins

"Things use to be different. We used electricity and everything," Holly Holiday explained to a group of kids what life was like fifteen years ago. "We used it for our computers, phones, even to grow food, and pump water, but nothing worked after the blackout. Not car engine or jet turbines, not even batteries. ALL of it was gone. People starved to death. There was sickness without medicine, and fires without fire trucks. If you were smart you left the city. If you weren't then you died government failed and militias rose up." She looked to the kids giving her blank stares. She locks eyes with a small boy sharpening a stick with a pocketknife. "I understand learning isn't as cool as bow hunting, or whatever, but this should bother you. The world went insane overnight. All the power in the world went out, and no one knows why."

"Will she ever give up," Finn mumbled to himself, watching Holly trying to talk to the kids.

"Hey Finn," Mr. Fabray greeted walking up to the tall boy. "Do you know where Quinn and Sam have gone?"

"They said something about hunting," Finn answered.

* * *

"Sam, come on," Quinn shouted, rushing through the forest.

"I'm coming," Sam responded. Finally catching up, he bumped into Quinn.

She was staring at an abandoned RV laying on its side. "Let's take a look." She begins to walk off.

"Quinn," Sam called, following her "how about we actually go hunting for once?"

When they left their village they told Finn they were going hunting. They grabbed their arrows and rushed off. "Hunting" to Quinn ment hunting for antiques and anything that could remind her of the past.

"No one's stopping you," she admitted, climbing on top of the RV. She pushed the vines covering the door to the side, and slid inside.

Sam shook his head and followed Quinn. When he was inside he found Quinn staring into an old, empty freezer. What he didn't know was that Quinn was remembering the last time she had ice cream.

* * *

"Really?" Quinn looked between her parents and the tub of ice cream in front of her.

Her mom nodded, lighting another candle. "It's going to melt anyway. The freezer doesn't work," she explained, not wanting to get into details for her child.

Quinn quickly began to dig into the tub. She was stopped by her dad lightly grabbing her hand.

"I want you to really remember what it tastes like." He knew the power would not be coming back on.

She nodded and continued eating the ice cream. At that moment the six year old was in heaven, but she didn't know that would be the last time she could ever taste ice cream. Fifteen years later and the blackout continues.

* * *

Quinn smiles at the memory and closed the freezer. She notices an old postcard from Chicago attached to the freezer door. The postcard had tall buildings lit with lights. The lights reflected off a body of water. Chicago looks nothing like that now.

Quinn was taken back as heard Sam behind her. She snatched the postcard front the door and rushed to Sam.

"I'm fine," Sam said between coughs.

"No, you're not," she yelled. "You're having an asthma attack. We have..."

Sam tried to push Quinn away. "I can't breathe," he admitted. "I can't breathe," he repeatedly yelled, trying to kick out the front window of the RV

His wheezing grew worse every second. As they rushed to the village, Quinn prayed that Sam doesn't die from an asthma attack.

* * *

"Bottom up," Holly ordered, handing Sam a glass. The liquid was a home remedy to help with asthma.

Sam placed to glass to his lips and pushed it away. "This smells awful."

Holly nodded. "Yes, but it'll help you."

Sam made a face as he place his lips on the rim of the glass. He held his breath as he swallowed the green liquid down.

"So, what were you guys really doing?"

"We were hunting, like I said," Quinn lied, looking up at her father.

"You know that road isn't safe," he stated,knowing what she was really doing. "You're suppose to lookout for him. He's your brother."

Sam wasn't Quinn's brother biologically. After the blackout the Fabrays took in anyone who needed help. Sam was first of many. Six months after the blackout everyone in Sam's family was either sick or dead. By the tenth month the five year old was alone, so he was taken in by the Fabrays. Before Mrs. Fabray died she would always tell Quinn to treat Sam like a brother, so she did.

"I'm sorry, really. It's just..." She Stopped talking, but her dad signals with his hand for her to keep going. "Nothing is safe. Everything's off limits."

"I'm doing what's best for you."

"You don't have to, dad," Quinn argued. "If it was up to you we'd never leave our street."

"Fine," Mr. Fabray yelled. "Wonder into the wild, and get your throats slit by bandits, or hung by the militia. Does any of that sound good to you?"

"It's not always like that."

"It can get pretty rough out there," Holly added from across the room.

Quinn rolled her eyes before looking back to her dad. "There's other towns like ours, right? People are different."

."Trust me, there's nothing worth seeing, not anymore," Mr. Fabray admitted.

"I get it," Holly started, moving towards Quinn. "I was your age once..."

"Is she part of this family now?" Quinn loudly asked her dad. "You put her in your bed and that makes her mom?"

"No." He stopped her from saying anymore. No one could replace Quinn's mother.

He welcomed anyone in trouble in his home, and he required his daughter to respect them. Quinn loved being around any kids he brought to live with them and she has respected all the adults, but one. Holly had been with them for 7 years, and Quinn hold so much hatred against her.

"You're acting like it," she shouted.

"Your mom died out there." His wife was killed 4 years after the blackout by a bandit, who thought she had food he could steal. "Do you want to end up just like her?"

Offended by her dad's words, Quinn stood and stormed towards the front door. She slammed the door closed, silencing all the voices calling after her.

* * *

Quinn wandered through the forest until she came across a brick wall outside an old carnival. She kneeled down and removed a brick hiding a metal lunchbox. With the lunchbox, she moved to the rusted ferris wheel. Opening the box, she smiled at her small collection.

She begins to flip through a stack of postcards. Postcards from LA, Miami, DC, and more, with buildings lit to the roof, and cars driving on roads. She reached into her jacket pocket and removed the Chicago postcard. She stuck it on top of the stack, and placed them back into the box.

She continued going through the box.

* * *

Mr. Fabray stood, looking over all the activities of his village. He laughs at the kids chasing each other, but his smile didn't last long. He looks out to the road and notices a large group of men. He stops the kids and order for them to go inside. He shoves his hand into his pockets as he rushes to Finn.

"Finn, take this," he orders, shoving a small object into Finn's hand.

"What is..."

"Take it," he repeated, tightly holding Finn's hand close. "Don't let anyone know you have it. If anything happens to me, do what I told you. You have to stay off the road. They'll be looking for it. Keep it safe." He walked off before Finn could respond.

Finn opened his hand to find a silver, circular pendent. He raised his eyebrow, wondering why was it so important to 'keep it safe.' He looks up from his palm to see Mr. Fabray standing to greet the group of soldiers from Schuester's militia.

"What a nice little village?" Captain Thomas Puckerman complemented, riding in on his horse.

"This must be a mistake. We already paid our spring taxes," Mr. Fabray admitted, hoping that was the reason for their visit.

"We're not here about your crops," the captain explained. "Do you know a Russel Fabray?"

Mr. Fabray hesitated. "You're looking at him," he admitted. "What's this about?"

Captain Puckermen climbed off his horse. "Carl Howell is your brother, correct?"

"Half-brother," Russel corrected.

"Where is Carl?"

"I haven't seen him in years. What is this about?"

"I'm here under orders from General Will Schuester himself." He removes his gloves to reveal the 'S' shaped burn on his wrist. "He personally asked me to bring back two men; you and your brother. I'm going to ask your to come with us under the authority of the Schuester Republic."

"Why?"

"Do I have to repeat myself?" Puckerman stepped closer to Russel.

"I just don't understand," he admitted. Will Schuester, leader of the Schuester Republic, has no reason to send for him.

"This is what you need to understand." Thomas's smile disappeared in a face of seriousness. "I've been searching for you for a very long time, through mud and filth. I've been away from my home, and my wife, and my bed, so I'm in a mood," he smirked. "I'm sure you understand that, so do yourself a favor and climb into that wagon." Noticing Russel standing his ground, Puckerman resorts to a threat. "Or, so help me, I will conscript all your children and I will reeducate them until they no longer remember your name. Are we clear?"

"May I have a moment," Mr. Fabray asked, earning a nod from the captain. He turned and walked towards Holly. "I'm going to go with them. I need you to look after..."

"No" Holly declined. "Youre not going with..."

"It's going to be okay."

"It's not going to be okay. Youre not..."

"You can't take him."

They turn to see Sam pointing a crossbow at Captain Puckerman.

"Sam, stop," Mr. Fabray ordered, slowly walked toward Sam.

"He didn't do anything," Sam stated, continuing to hold the his weapon.

"Sam, put it down," Mr. Fabray spoke in a calming tone.

"We don't want any trouble," Sam stated. "Just leave." Sam noticed a soldier lift his gun at him. "Tell him to put his gun down" he orders, pointing to the soldier. "P-p-put the gun down."

"Sam..."

Mr. Fabray was interrupted by another villager. "Kid's got a point," the villager yelled, aiming a shotgun at the soldier. "How 'bout they put theirs down."

"Sir, you do know owning a firearm is a hanging offence," Captain Puckerman stated a law Schuester passed.

"So go hang yourself," the villager yelled, refusing to put his gun down.

"I swear I'll shoot him," Sam yelled.

"Put it down," another soldier ordered, and reached for his sword.

"Can you just leave us alone, please?" Sam asked.

"Sam you have to put the arrow down. Listen..."

A loud bang spread through the village. Mr. Fabray fell to the ground. He wasn't dead, but he was losing a lot of blood. In rage, Sam released an arrow. the arrow pierced the chest of the soldier that shot Mr. Fabray. A brawl broke out between the soldiers and the villagers.

Watching most of his soldiers fall dead, Captain Puckerman began to fire his gun at villagers. Everyone froze after 5 villagers fell dead from Puckerman's shots.

"Enough." Captain Puckerman glared at Sam, who stood over Mr. Fabray's body.

Two soldiers grabbed Sam by his arms, and began to pull him away. Sam began to yell for the soldiers to let him go, but they didn't.

* * *

Quinn heard a gunshot as she dragged back home. Her slow steady pace quickened as concerns flooded her mind.

When she reached her village she see's her father laying on the ground. She rushes to her father and Holly, who was trying to aid him.

"What happened?" she asked in panic.

"Sam's gone," Mr. Fabray stated, breathing slowly.

"Sam's gone? wha..."

"Yes, he's gone," Holly insured. "The militia took him."

"Okay. Okay. Wh-what do we do?" She looks down at her dad for an answer.

"Carl is in Chicago," Mr. Fabray explained to the teary eyed girl. "He can get Sam. You have to find Carl."

"No." Quinn shook her head. "We can catch up with the soldiers. We can go now, and take him back."

"Quinn, they'll kill you," he admitted between gasps of air.

"Youre going to come with me, right?" Quinn asked, receiving a head shake from her dad. "Youre coming with me." Her dad continued to shake his head. "Yes, you are."

"Quinn, you are strong. Youre just like your mom. You can do it," he spoke weakly, taking his last breath.

* * *

Holly entered the home to find Quinn packing. "At least wait until tomorrow. You need to sleep."

"I'd be wasting time," Quinn stated, shoving the lunchbox into the backpack. "This doesn't even make sense. Why would they take Sam?" she rambled as she filled a canteen with water sitting in the sink.

"I don't know." Holly shrugged. "I guess we'll know when we find him."

Quinn looked up at Holly. "We" she repeated to herself. "Holly, that's nice of you to offer, but I'll be fine."

"Maybe so, but I'm still coming with you."

"You don't understand. I don't want you to come," Quinn admitted, looking Holly in the eye.

"And, you have to understand that I'm not doing this for you." To Holly, Sam was a good kid. He doesn't deserve anything the militia could do to him.

* * *

Quinn walked through the village with Holly not far behind.

"You have to be kidding me," Quinn mumbled, noticing Finn waiting at the village's entrance with a backpack. "Finn, go home," she ordered as she walked past him.

"Sam is my friend, so I'm going too." He begins to walk behind Quinn and Holly.

Now the journey begins.

* * *

**Thank you for reading. I don't own Glee or Revolution.**

**This was based off one of my favorite shows Revolution. This chapter is a test to help me decide if I'll work on the story or delete it. So let me know if you'd like this story to continue.**


	2. Nate

Sam sat on the wagon, handcuffed to a bar. The soldiers roamed around the small lake for their break.

"Listen son, I'm sorry you're caught up in this," Captain Puckerman apologized to Sam. "But, you have to understand that I can't go back empty handed. This is a mess; bad news for everyone. To tell you the truth, when General Schuester finds out, he's going to be irate. Might even have my head." Puckerman smirked at how he went against his orders. He was told to bring back Russel Fabray; not the kid he adopted.

"Let's hope," Sam smirked. Sam was forced backwards when Captain Puckerman's hand met his cheek. Sam sat back up to see the older man's emotionless face.

"Let's not forget that you drew first," he reminded Sam of the fight earlier that morning. "That puts Fabray's blood on your hands." The captain walks off to chat with a group of soldiers.

Looking down to the pole he was attached to, Sam realized that all the screws holding the pipe to the wagon was loose or missing. After checking to be sure that the captain was distracted Sam began to unscrew the loose screws.

* * *

"This Carl guy, how do we know he can help us?" Finn asked as they walked a steep hill.

"All my dad use to say about him was that he was good at killing," Quinn answered, reaching for her canteen.

"Oh, that's comforting," Finn sarcastically stated.

Quinn turned on her heel to look at the people behind her. "I'm going to refill the canteens," she announced, taking Finn and Holly's canteen, "ALONE." She stormed off, wanting a moment without Finn's question's and Holly's suggestions.

Quinn followed a brick wall surrounding the lake. When she reached the entrance, she noticed a person fondling a arrowless bow. She backed away, hoping she wasn't seen.

"You know most people just say hi," a voice spoke from behind the wall.

Quinn slowly rounded the corner to see the tan skinned boy smiling at her. He had hazel eyes that were noticeable from a distance.

"I was um." Quinn hummed trying to think of something to say. She smiled at the boy. "Hi."

"Hey," he responded. "I'm Nate."

"Quinn."

"Where you heading, Quinn?"

"That's none of your business, Nate."

Nate laughed, hearing Quinn's respond. "That's true."

"I'm going to get some water," she announced, beginning to walk past Nate. She turns around to see Nate watching her with a smile.

* * *

As the sun began to set, Quinn and her followers came to a nonfunctioning airport.

"Maybe we should go somewhere else," Finn suggested, as they searched for a way onto the plane.

"Come on," Holly ordered, stacking chests outside the plane to make steps. "There's usually a first aid kit in the front," she explained, standing on the wing of the plain. "We might need it."

Quinn and Finn followed Holly inside the plain. They quickly settled for a night of sleep.

* * *

Sam lied still as a soldier on night guard walked past the wagon. When he knew he was out of the guard's sight he continued to twist the screws of the pipe he was cuffed to. His blood ran down his hand from the rust cutting his fingers. The pipe fell to the floor of the wagon with a thud. Sam tightly closed his eyes before the soldier turned to look at him.

Sam tightly grasped the pipe in his hand when he heard the soldier walking towards him. Sam peeked through half closed eyelids and saw the soldier standing over him. Sam forcefully swung the pipe, hitting the soldier in the head. Sam jumped over the unconscious body and ran into the woods.

* * *

Quinn slept peacefully, until she began to fill something rubbing against her forehead. She opens her eyes to see a man leaning closely to her face.

"Wakie wakie." The man slaps Quinn in the face and places a knife at her throat.

Quinn looks out the corner of her eye to see 2 more men doing the same to Finn and Holly.

"You people should be more careful," the man next to Holly started, waving his knife in her face. "I hear there's a lot of bad people on the road."

"Just take what you want and leave us alone," Finn spoke.

"Are you giving us orders?"

"Take it easy." Holly began to feel uncomfortable. "Look in the brown bag; side pocket."

The man beside Quinn signaled for his friends to remove the knives, and picked up Holly's backpack. "You like to have a good time," he laughed, holding a small bottle of whisky in the air. "That's lucky because we like to have a good time to." He tosses the bottle to his friend and jerked Quinn up.

"Let her go," Finn yelled. He tried to stand, but froze as the man redrew his knife.

"Wait your turn." The stranger pulled Quinn away so they could be alone, regardless of her constant fight to escape.

The two men passed the bottle of whisky, not listening to Quinn's screams. Seconds later both men leaned over, coughing out blood.

Unsatisfied by the speed that the poison was working, Holly jumped out of her seat and grabbed a airmask hanging above her. She wrapped it tightly around the stranger's throat. When he stopped squirming she snatched the knife from his hand. She shoved the knife repeatedly into the man beside Finn.

Finn and Holly rush to find Quinn.

* * *

Quinn and the stranger fought each other forcefully. Suddenly an arrow pierces the man's chest. His dead body fell to the floor. Quinn turns to look out the shattered window that the arrow entered from. Looking to the ground, she saw Nate slowly lower his bow.

* * *

"Nate, was it?" Holly questioned, hiking through the forest. "Where are you heading?"

"Chicago," he answered, leading the group. "Hoping to get on a fishing crew. You?"

"We're going to Chicago too."

"Quinn," Holly called. She could tell Quinn was getting ideas.

"We have food, and I owe him." Quinn saw no reason Nate couldn't join them on the way to Chicago.

"Can you give us a minute?" Holly asked Nate.

Nate nodded and walked ahead.

"You can't trust just anyone, Quinn," Holly stated.

"Is that why you carry around poison whiskey?" Finn asked. Finn had no problem with Nate joining them. At least he wouldn't be the only guy.

"Yes."

"Not everyone is a monster," Quinn said. "Some people can be trusted." Quinn sped up to catch Nate.

* * *

Sam spent the rest of his night running. He reached a barn with several barrels of water outside it. He hurried to the barrel and washed his face. As the water ran down his face, Sam felt a tightness in his chest. Suddenly his world tuned into darkness.

* * *

**Thx for reading.**

**I really didn't get many reviews, followers, or favorites, so I thought about taking this story down. The more I thought about it the more I wanted to continue. I'm continuing regardless of how many readers or reviews I have.**

**I want to add as much Glee stuff and stay on the story line of Revolution. I'm gonna add Santana into the story soon and work to add more characters. This story will have Quck, Samcedes, and very little Finchel.**


	3. Chicago

They finally made it to Chicago. They wandered the streets before entering a bar.

"Excuse me," Holly called to the bartender, who quickly turned. "Maybe you could help me."

"I hope so." The dark-haired man stepped forward, beginning to mix a drink.

"We're looking for somebody," Holly announced. "The name is Carl Howell. Do you know him?"

The man put down the bottle of alcohol and shook his head. "Never heard of him."

"He has to be here," Quinn spoke. Why would her dad send her somewhere he wasn't.

"What do you want me to tell you kid?" he asked, turning to grab another bottle.

"If you know him, or anyone who does, can you please let him know him his brother is dead? He was murdered by militia."

The man froze listening to the young blonde. He turns back to the group of visitors. "Who are you?" he asked pointing the head of a bottle at Quinn.

"Lucy," Quinn answered using her real name. "I'm his niece."

"Just you," he points his finger at Quinn, "come with me."

"Wait buddy." Nate stopped the man. "You not taking her anywhere," he stated, slowly waving a knife between him and the man.

Without a word, the man grabbed Nate's wrist and snatched the knife. "She's my niece," he admitted, holding the knife to Nate's neck. "I don't know you." He removed the knife and stabbed the wood of the bar. The knife stuck straight as he began to walk off.

"You're Uncle Carl?"

"Underwhelmed?"

"No." She shook her head. "I just didn't expect..."

"Come on" Carl ordered. "Not in here."

* * *

Sam was woken when he heard a click. He opened his eyes to see a small ginger pointing a shotgun at him. He slowly sat up in the bed.

"No funny business," she ordered, continuing to point her gun.

"No ma'am." Sam shook his head. He looked down to the see the handcuff still attached to his right wrist. "I'm not..." He stopped, not knowing what to say. "What happened?"

"You had an asthma attack. Be happy that I found you." She tossed an inhaler into Sam's lap.

"What is this?"

"You breathe it in," she explained. "It stops the attack before it starts." She stares down at Sam's wrist. "Do you want to explain?"

"I was running away from some soldiers."

"Did they follow you here?"

"I don't mean to put you through anymore trouble, and I owe you already." He removed the covers from over his body and tried to stand. "I'll just..." He sat on the edge of the bed, feeling dizzy. "I'll go."

The woman finally lowered her gun, not knowing what to do. She couldn't let the boy go back out there when he is obvious unhealthy, but what would happen if the militia showed up at her doorstep.

* * *

"He said to find you, and that you'll help then he..." Quinn made small circles with her hands, knowing what happened next in her story.

"Ya, sorry." Carl finish pouring his drink then moves to sit in a chair.

"Why did Schuester want my dad? Why does he want you."

"Schuster thought your dad knew something; something important," he answered. "He thinks your dad told me, so I must know it too."

"What?"

"Why the lights went out," Carl answered. "Maybe how to turn them back on. If Schuester got the power back on, that would have meant tanks; and plains; and factories," he listed. "He could steamroll the entire country, and butcher the other republics."

With electricity, Schuester would be unstoppable. The Schuester Republic could expand in a matter of days. The Schuester Republic would no longer be the northeast of what use to be the US, but the whole continent of North America.

Quinn began to pace, processing the information. "So what do we so now?"

"What do we do about what?" he asked drinking from the glass he neglected.

"How are we going to get Sam back?"

Carl shrugged at his niece. "I never said I was going with you? If you haven't noticed, I'm trying to maintain a low profile here." He stands to refill his glass.

"I am begging you." Quinn followed behind her uncle. "Please, help."

"The kid is bait," Carl announced. "I go after him, it's not good for him, or me. I for one like to keep my insides on the inside.

"No," Quinn yelled as her eyes began to burn with tears. "I have lost everyone that I care about. My mom is dead. My dad is dead. God knows what they're doing to Sam right now. You are going to help me get him back."

"Why is that?"

"Because, we're family."

"Family?" Carl looked down to the glass in his hand and back up to Quinn. "Kid, I don't even know you."

"You're right." Quinn picks up her bag in the corner and began to walk out. "I don't even know why I asked. Sorry for bothering you."

When Quinn reached the front of the bar, Holly grabbed her arm.

"What's wrong?" Holly studied Quinn's red face.

"Nothing," Quinn answered, pulling away from Holly. "Let's go."

Nate move in front of her. "What happened?"

"Nothing. Let's go," Quinn repeated herself.

Ignoring Quinn's orders, Nate pushed past Quinn. "Hey," he called to Carl. "What did you say to her?" He held up his hand to stop Carl from walking away.

Carl reached for Nate's hand pulled his sleeve up. On his wrist was the same burn mark shared by every soldier of the Schuester Republic.

"So, you're part of the militia," Carl questioned, glaring into the eyes of boy with the 'S' burned into his skin. "When did you enlist?"

Swiftly Nate freed himself from Carl's grip. He held his arrow ready to shoot as he backed out of the bar.

Quinn stared at the door Nate disappeared behind, and began to feel guilty. She allowed a person of the militia to follow them. She should have listened to Holly. Nate could tell the militia anything.

* * *

"I'm sorry Uncle Carl. This was all my fault," Quinn stated, watching her uncle pase.

"He's probably been following you from the get-go, hoping you'd flush me out, which is exactly what you did."

"So, what are you going to do?" Finn asked, hoping he would agree to help them.

Carl turned and removed a bottle from a cabinet. "This, as far a I know, is the last bottle of Single Malt in Chicago," he proclaimed. "My plan is to sit here and drink it."

"You can't just stay here. It's not safe."

"Who's fault is that? Your boyfriend is going to go get the nearest squad. Two, maybe three hours top is what you got," Carl explained. "If I were you guys I'd hit the road now."

"This is crazy," Quinn shouted. "Just come with us, or don't, but go somewhere. You can't stay here and just die."

"Just go." Carl turned and began to remove the cork from the bottle he held.

"Come on," Quinn argued.

"I said go," he sternly repeated before turning his back to the group. He slammed his fist on the counter causing everyone to jump. "GET OUT!"

The group of travelers slowly obeyed.

* * *

"Sorry to bother you, but we're looking for a dangerous, young fugitive," Captain Puckerman explained to the ginger haired woman standing in front of him. "He's nineteen; six-foot; blonde hair."

"You are the first person I've seen in weeks," she lied.

Captain Puckerman stood silent, studying the woman. "What did you do before the blackout? I'm just curious."

"I was a guidance counselor."

"I was an insurance adjuster," he informed with a smile. "Most of my job was to figure out if the things people said lined up with the truth. Lucky for me that's a skill that never goes out of style." His smile steadily faded. "Take for example the tracks leading to your back door."

The woman raised her eyebrow. "Tracks?"

"Fresh ones; about a day old," Captain Puckerman nodded. "Two people. A woman, who would have to be you, dragging in a man." His smile returns, full of pride. "Yet, you say I'm the first person you've seen in weeks. Does that sound like the truth to you?"

Knowing she was caught in a lie, the woman pushed the door wider.

The captain rushed inside the home. Kicking open a door, he catches Sam struggling to climb out of the window. Puckerman forcefully tossed the boy to the floor.

Sam lied on the floor as Captain Puckerman cuffed his free wrist.

* * *

Nate lead a group of soldiers through the bar where he met Carl.

"He has to be long gone by now," a captain assumed.

"If he is here Schuester wants him alive," Nate explained.

Nate lead the group to the back of the bar. As he turned the corner, he notices Carl standing at the top of a wide-set of stairs. The few soldiers spreaded throughout the large room.

"Come on down," Nate ordered. "We don't want to hurt you."

"I don't want to hurt them," Carl calmly admitted. "You could just let me be. I'd drink myself to death."

"You know we can't do that."

"I know," Carl mumbled, removing a sword from the scabbard attached at his waist.

"Take him now," the captain ordered.

Carl fiercely began to fight off the soldiers that ran towards him. Some he stabbed, others he sliced open. As he rushed up the stairs a bullet hits the pillar beside him. He turns to see a soldier behind him. He rapidly reached for the handheld crossbows he sat on a table earlier. He fires an arrow, and penetrates the soldiers chest.

Carl was tackled to the floor by a soldier that snuck behind him. He and the soldier roughly wrestled until Carl stabbed the soldier with his hand knife. He climbed from under the bleeding body and began to run. He slid on his hill to stop after a soldier turned the corner and began towards him. He looks in the opposite direction and sees another soldier charging. Trapped, Carl jumped over the railing to the first floor.

As he stood a group of soldiers circled him. He begins to fight the soldier in front of him. A sharp jab at his back cactuses him to turn. Before Carl was completely turned the soldier falls to the ground. Carl looks up from the body to see Quinn lower her crossbow. He turns and continues fighting.

Quinn run with two soldiers chasing her. As she entered the front of the building she passed Finn, who stood flatly beside the door with a large stick tightly gripped in his hand.

When the soldiers passed him, Finn swung the stick and knocked the last soldier to the ground. The soldier stood and looked enraged at Finn. The soldier reached for his sword, but froze and fell. Over his body stood Holly holding a bloody knife.

Quinn continue to run until she tripped and rolled down the steps outside the bar. She quickly sat up. Before she could reach for her crossbow a soldier was standing over her. He raised his sword, but he was kicked down.

Quinn stared at the unconscious body, before looking up. She froze seeing Nate. Quinn and Nate silently watched each other.

"Quinn," Holly yelled from inside the bar.

Nate quickly fled before Holly exited the building.

Holly looked down at Quinn. "You okay?"

Too shocked to speak, Quinn nodded her head.

* * *

"You know, I didn't ask you to come back," Carl said, looked at the people surrounding him.

"Don't look at me," Holly said while stitching Carl's wound. "I wanted to let you rot."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because we're family," Quinn answered. "This is what my dad would have wanted."

"Kid," Carl called, looking up a Quinn, "if I'm coming with you then you have to dial it back a notch with the family stuff."

Quinn smiled. "You're coming?" she asked to clarify.

"Lover boy is only going to send more troops," he explained. "I can't stay here."

"Thank you," Quinn thanked with a smile.

Carl emptied the bottle of Malt into his glass. "We're all gonna end up with our heads on a stick, but you're welcome."

* * *

"General Schuester."

Will turned to see a member of his militia rushing towards him with a letter. He takes the letter and sits. He opens the letter and read:

General Schuester,

Russel Fabray Is dead. We have his son.

With respect, Capt. Puckerman

Will threw the letter on the desk. He sat back in the chair, thinking of Puckerman's slip up. The corners of Schuster's lips curled as he gained a new idea. He might not be able to carry out his first plan, but Sam would do perfectly for his backup.

Now all Will had to do is wait.

* * *

The ginger haired woman unlocked the several locks on the door leading up to her attic. She removed a silver, circular pendant from her pocket. The pendent began glow a light blue. She hung it on a hook next to the computer that flickered on. She sat in front of the computer and began to type.

THE MILITIA WAS HERE.

She sat quietly, waiting for a response.

DID THEY FIND IT?

NO

SO... WHAT DO WE DO NOW?

Emma laid back in her chair. She didn't know what to do.

* * *

**Thank you for reading.**

**This was the last chapter covering the first episode of Revolution. Please excuse the fight scene. Writing fights are a challenge to me.**


	4. A Women Hunt

The chime of metal was carried through the air. Carl fought against a bounty hunter. He kept his focus in his opponent's sword. Carl swiftly dodges the hunters sword.

"Careful, Schuester wants me alive" Carl reminded, continuing to fight.

"That's true, but he never said with how many limbs."

The two continue to fight until the bounty hunter loses his grip on his sword. Without hesitation, Carl punches the man in the face. He places the point of his sword at the heart of the unconscious man.

"Carl, stop," Quinn yelled running to him. She looks at the body under Carl's sword. "He's unconscious."

"He's a bounty hunter," Carl stated. "He's probably not alone. This area is crawling with them."

"So, you're just going to murder him in cold blood?" Quinn asked.

"Yes, that's the idea, Quinn." He notices the disapproving look Quinn gave. He finally lowers his sword. "One day into this trip and you're already a pain. Come on," he threw his arm up at Finn "we have to get him into a boxcar. We got to lock him up."  
Finn helps Carl stand the man and they locked him into a boxcar further up track.

* * *

A loud bang rung through the fields. The militia soldiers slowed their horses

"What did that sound like to you, Sammy Boy?" Captain Puckerman asked, looking over his shoulder.

Sam remained quiet, but he knew the sound was a gunshot.

* * *

The group followed Carl into a market set in Pontiac, Illinois.

"What did that man do?" Quinn asked, watching a man being severely beaten.

"It's the militia," Holly answered. "He could have done anything; spoke up; looked at them sideways. Who knows?"

Quinn's eyes grew. She sped up and grabbed Carl's arm. "Sam's with people like that. What are we doing here?"

"I told you I need to talk to somebody," he answered, continuing to walk.

"Wait." Quinn pulled his arm to stop him. "Sam is out there somewhere. He has never been more than 5 miles away from home. It's my job to lookout for him."

"If you ever want to see him again then we have to go up against Schuester himself, and a couple of thousand of his men. I can't take them alone. I need help, and my help is here." Carl began to walk away.

"Where are you going?"

Carl turned to look at Quinn. "This little place called shut up and stay here," Carl sarcastically ordered before disappearing behind a curtain.

The room was empty exempt for a few card players.

Carl walked to the man at the counter. "I'm looking for someone who plays cards here."

"A lot of people play cards here," the man behind the counter stated.

"You would remember this one." Carl slid a small piece of gold to the man. "Santana Lopez."

The man takes the gold with a greedy smirk. "What's your business with Santana?"

"I just need to know where she is."

"Who's asking?"

"Do you not know who this is?" a voice behind Carl questioned. "This is Carl Howell." Carl turned to see the bounty hunter he fought earlier. "Should have killed me when you had the chance."

"That's what I said," Carl openly admitted. "So, how'd you get out?"

The hunter looks down to his bloody hand wrapped in gauze. "I think I broke every bone in my hand trying to punch through the wood, but you're worth it."

"I don't suppose we could call it a draw, and you tell me where Santana is."

"Not with the price tag Schuester has tagged to your ass," the bounty hunter stated.

"Well," Carl shrugged, "give it your best shot. We'll see what happens."

The hunter nods his head. "Alright, let's see what happens."

Quinn, Holly, and Finn were brought into the room. Knives were being held at their throats.

"I don't know them," Carl lied.

"Really? They were with you at the trainyard."

"So?" Carl argued. "I met them yesterday."

"So, you wouldn't care if I sliced them open?"

Carl silently shrugged. Quinn released a small yelp as she felt the knife push against her skin.  
"Alright." Carl threw his hands up in surrender. "Let them go."

The men obeyed by lowering their knives.

Carl removed his backpack from his shoulder and tossed it to the ground. He took a step forward, but was stopped when Quinn grabbed his arm. "Not a word," he ordered, stepping away from Quinn. He held his hands out to be cuffed. Carl began to walk behind the bounty hunter, with the chain to the cuffs hanging at his knees.

As Carl was lead to through the market, he kicked one of the bounty hunter's men and stills his knife. Carl turned and stabbed the man behind him. He turned to see the bounty hunter running. Carl climbed ontop of a sales table and began to run table to table. When he was close enough to the hunter, he tackled him to the ground.

With the chain of the cuffs around the hunters neck, Carl asked, "is Nora here, or not?"

"No" the hunter answered in pain.

"Then, where is she?"

"She's problem dead by now," he answered to the man with his knee in his back. "She was arrested for stealing the militia's gold. They put her in some work camp south of here."

Having the information he needed, Carl forcefully cracked the hunter's neck. He stood from over the lifeless body.

* * *

Captain Puckerman knocked on the wooden door. He stepped back, waiting for a answer.

"Can I help you?" a grey haired man asked stepping outside the house.

"My wife Julia grills these venison steaks," Captain Puckerman stated, admiring the dead deer hanging by its legs. "I don't know what she does to them, but man oh man, it's like she smothers them with love."

"Sounds good," the homeowner admitted, confused to what that had to do with him.

"Get a lot of stakes out of this guy." He points to the dear. "Burn the sonofabitch," Puckerman laughed, removing his sunglasses. "How'd you bring him down?"

"Crossbow."

Sam silently looks between the men and the deer.

"So, he got this buckshot from a bar fight?" Puckerman sarcastically asked, pointing to the bullet holes in the deer's body.

"I don't know what you think that..."

"Sir," Puckerman called, stopping the man from talking. "Are you familiar with the Baltimore Act? It shall be unlawful for any citizen of the Schuester Republic to buy, sell, own, or transport a firearm, except loyal militia," Puckerman explained. "Now, the penalty for this is death. So, I'm only going to ask you once, is there something you'd like to share?"

Slowly the man stepped back inside his home. The man returned with a shotgun held in front of him. He threw the gun at the captain's feet.

The captain smiled at his accomplishment. "Thank you." His smile quickly dropped. "Search the house."

The man held out his hand to stop the soldiers walking towards him. "That's all I got."

"You're just a beacon of truth," Captain remarked before signaling for his men to continue forward.

Not willing to let the militia search his home, the man stepped back to reveal another gun. He quickly fire at a soldier climbing the steps of his house. Before the man could aim for another target, he was shot in his chest. His body fell backwards.

Puckerman placed his gun back into his jacket. He kneeled to aid his fallen man. "Take it easy. Let me see." He slowly began to move the soldiers hands from his stomach.

"Sir."

Puckerman looks up from the gunshot wound to see another one of his men exiting the house. He shook his head at the American flag, the flag of rebels, being held by the soldier. "Burn it," he ordered. "Burn everything."

Sam watched as all the soldiers began to follow the captain's orders.

* * *

Will pulled back the flap of the tent allowing a painful scream to escape into the camp. The scream drew back in as he allowed the flap to fall behind him.

"Sargent Menkins, what do you think you are doing?" Will asked a sergeant standing over a suspect.

The sergeant lowered the knife and backed away from the man scraped into a chair. "I was interrogating the suspect, sur."

Will shook his head. "Not like this. We're not animals." He reached his hand out, and the sergeant place the weapon in his hand. "Are you alright?" Will asked, patting the shoulder of the man in the chair.

The man didn't respond, but watched Will drop the knife on a table.

Will cleaned his hands with a cloth sitting on the table and turns to the man. "I'm Will Schuester, president of the Republic, and general of it's militia," he introduced himself.

"I know who you are," the suspect informed.

Will reached out and touched the cut wound on the mans face with the cloth. "I am sorry," he apologized for the mans recent treatment. "You know why you're here." He lowered the rag to study the person he was having the conversation with. "We need to know where the other rebels are."

The man looked down, refusing to sell out his camp.

"You tell me where the camp is, and you'll be with your family inside a week, I guarantee you." Will exhales loudly as the rebel continues to remain silent. "You rebels are bombing my camps; killing my men. You're terrorists. Hasn't there been enough violence? Don't people have the right to be safe and happy?"

"People aren't happy," the rebel stated. "They're scared to death of you." He looked up to secure eye contact with Will. "But, I'm not."

Will releases a soft snicker as he backed away from the suspect. He reached for the knife he place on the table. Will watched the rebel rapidly shaking his head, but Will had made his decision. He impaled the rebel's body. Will felt the blood running down the blade to his fingertips.

* * *

"This was probably my fault," Carl stated, holding his wrists out to Holly, who was working to free him from the handcuffs. "What am I saying? This was my fault. I blame myself."

"At least you made it out okay," Quinn shrugged.

"Swiss army knife," Holly called for Finn to give her.

Finn reached for Holly's bag and began to shuffle through it looking for the army knife. "Why do you have this?" He asked pulling a cellphone from her bag.

"Swiss army, please," Holly repeated, not wanting to explain why she carries a iPhone. She reached her hand for the knife when Finn found it.

"Quinn, next time I want to kill someone," Carl said, "let me kill them." He looked at his wrists a he felt the cuffs loosen. "Thanks," he thanked Holly, and reached for his jacket.

"What are you doing?" Quinn asked, watching Carl pushing his arm through a sleeve.

"I'm learning my lesson," he answered. "I'll meet you in two weeks on Main Street in Lowell, Indiana," he explained to the group.

Quinn stood and stopped Carl. "You're leaving?"

"I have to get Santana. We're going to need her."

"Who is this girl anyway?" Quinn asked. If they took the time to look for her, they would have less time to save Sam.

"She's really good at blowing stuff up," Carl answered. "We need her if you want to get Sam back."

"Please, let us come with you."

"You dragged me out here," Carl yelled with loss of patience. "Lowell, Indiana; two weeks," he repeated before walking off into the dark woods.

* * *

Holly wake to the morning sun beaming down. She slowly sat up and studied her surroundings. "Where's my bag?" She asked, noticing it wasn't beside her. She watched Finn rise and look at her. "You have to be kidding me." She stood and stormed to where Quinn's sleeping bag was laid. She pulled back the cover to find her bag inside. "Quinn," Holly called, hoping the girl didn't wander far. She turned to see Finn holding a sheet of paper.

**I went after Carl. I'm sorry. Don't be worry.  
-Quinn**

Holly began to panic. Anything could happen to Quinn while she's wandering the forest alone. "QUINN!"

* * *

Quinn hiked through the woods with her mind set on finding Carl, but he mind slowly began to drift to when her family left their home after the blackout.

* * *

_"I want to wear my ballet slippers."  
_

_"No. We're going to be doing a lot of walking," Mrs. Fabray stated, tying the laces of her daughter's boots. "It's like Dora," she compared their situation to Quinn's favorite cartoon. "This is all one big adventure. We're going to walk right out if the city."  
_

_"Where?" the six year old asked.  
_

_"To the country," she answered. "There will be a lot of food, and water, and room to play."  
_

_Quinn smiled at her mom, convinced that what they were doing was the best.  
_

* * *

All thoughts in Quinn's mind vanished when she heard a stick break behind her. Quinn began to run, knowing she was being followed. She tried to slowdown as she reached a steep hill, but fell. When she finally stopped rolling she reached for her leg and began to cry out in pain. She looked up to see Nate standing above her.

"Let me look at it," Nate ordered, walking closer to Quinn.

"No, Nate. I don't need your help. Stay away."

Ignoring orders, he kneeled in front of her. When he reached for her leg Quinn quickly cuffed his left hand to a tall, thin pole sticking from the ground. He reached to stop Quinn, but she rolled out of reach.

"That's good, Quinn. I'm impressed," he stated, pulling on the chain of the cuffs.

"Don't be." Quinn answered. "You stomped around like a elephant back there. Why are you following me?"

"I'm following your uncle, same as you," Nate answered. "Those are my orders. Bring him back alive."

"You used me to flush him out." She looked at Nate's still face. "You're a sonofabitch." Quinn turned and began to walk away, but a question entered her mind that she need the answer to. She turned back to a struggling Nate and asked, "is your name even Nate?"

He hesitated but finally answered. "No." He noticed the regretful look Quinn watched him with. "I have orders."

"Then, why'd you save me?"

The boy turned and began to pull at the chain. He didn't know how to answer her question.

Quinn shook her head and walked away, leaving him to struggle with the cuffs.

* * *

Slow down," Finn suggested, watching Holly rapidly packing.

"We can catch up to her."

"We don't even know which way she went." Finn sat in front of Holly. "She'll find Carl,"

"So, you're saying we should let her go off to some militia prison camp?" Holly sarcastically asked. "If we don't find her, that's what will happen."

"We'll see her again."

"How do you know that, Finn? How do you know that?" She asked getting loader.

"Just..." Finn shrugged his shoulders. "We just will."

Holly began to dig through her bag. "Do you want to know why I carry this around?" She asked, waving her cell phone around. "Somewhere inside are the only pictures of my kids. Birthdays, first steps, their whole lives, and I don't even have a picture I can hold in my hands. I've spent hours staring at this stupid thing because it's getting harder, and harder to remember their faces." Holly took deep breaths, trying to collect herself. "There's no way to know who we will see and won't see again."

* * *

**Thanks for reading and please review.**


	5. Chained Heat

Sam watched the soldier laying at the end of the wagon. Sam looked up to lock eyes with Captain Puckerman

"Hey Cap," the soldier said, covering the shot wound on his stomach. He made it through the night, but the pain grew worse. "Pretty messed up, isn't it?"

The captain looked at his soldier. "I'm afraid so. Either die quick or die painful. Those are your only options," he explained. He held out a small bottle of poison. "You drink every drop, and you slowly drift off. Won't feel a thing."

The soldier took the bottle, facing the reality that he could not be helped. "I'm scared," he admitted, eying the poison.

"Don't be. Down the hatch, son." Puckerman watched the young soldier push the bottle to his lips and drink. "Where you're going you'll warm, fed, with your family, and the best part is that you'll bask in the most beautiful light." By the end of his speech, the soldier had moved on. Puckerman softly closed the soldier's eyes lids.

* * *

Quinn studied the rusted playground as she walked though. The sight of a flat basketball sent her back into time.

* * *

_"I smell smoke," Quinn admitted, bouncing her basketball._

_"There might be a fight near by," her mom explained, sorting through the goods they had loaded into a small, red wagon._

_"I don't hear any sirens."_

_"Because there's no more fire trucks."_

_Quinn didn't understand, but she nodded her head. She bounced her ball a few more times before asking, "why are we here?" She points at the school building. She couldn't understand why they were stopping if they were only going to 'the country'._

_"Dad had to get some things from his work."_

_Quinn nodded and returned to bouncing her ball. "My ball," she cried as it rolled away. She began to chase after, but froze when a man trapped it under his foot._

_"You like basketball?" the stranger asked._

_"Yes," Quinn shyly answered._

_The man smiled at the child. "I love the Bulls, but I think they've played their last game."_

_"Quinn," her mom called. "Quinn, come over here," she ordered, wanting to get her daughter away from the stranger._

_Quinn turned from the curly haired man to face her mom. Before Quinn could step away, the man placed his hands on her shoulders._

_"You have a beautiful daughter," the man complimented. "She has such a pretty face. I would hate having to smash it in. I want your food. All of it."_

* * *

Quinn jumped feeling someone touch her shoulder. She turned to find Carl.

"Quinn, you're killing me. What are you doing here?" Carl asked.

"I'm going with you."

"I said I would find you."

"Not good enough. You have to let me come with you."

"I get it. You want Sam. You've been abundantly clear."

"You don't get it. This is all my fault," Quinn yelled. "Sam is my responsibility. When my mom died, I took care of him. He gets these asthma attack, so I had to watch him. I slept an hour at stretch, checking on him ten times a night to make sure he was still breathing," she explained. "The one day I let Sam out of my sight was the day they took him. If I was there, and not off pouting like a brat, maybe I could have stopped them; maybe my dad would be alive; maybe Sam wouldn't be off, scared and alone. If he gets sick, they're not..." She stop, not wanting to say what could happen in that scenario. "You have to let me help. I can't just sit and wait."

* * *

"I have to say something," Finn stated, sitting beside Holly on the log. "Mr. Fabray gave me this." He held out the silver pendent for Holly to take. "He said to keep it safe, and to take it to a woman named Emma in Illinois.

"Who is she," Holly asked earning a shrug. "Why her?"

"She might know how to get the power on," Finn answered. "Maybe you could go back home. What if you could see your kids again."

Holly smiled convinced. She agreed to help Finn find Emma.

* * *

"Amen," all the soldiers said in unison, look at the grave of the late soldier.

Puckerman turned after hearing a sniff behind him. "Go ahead. Spit it out," he said to Sam.

"What?" Sam asked confused.

"Have some conviction," he ordered, moving towards the wagon. "If you think something, then say it." The captain eyes Sam. "You don't like that I killed that trader, even though he owned guns and a rebel flag; even though he shot one if my boys. I will tell you what I think. I think the Schuester militia is the only thing between us and total anarchy. Maybe it just a finger in the dam, but it's the only order we got left."

Sam eyes the captain. "Do you want to know what I think?" Sam asked. "I think you tell yourself that. I think the truth is that you like to kill because you're a murderer and a..."

Before Sam could complete his confession, Puckerman had his hand clasped to Sam's neck. "I appreciate the honesty." He released Sam by pushing him backwards.

* * *

"Move it."

Carl and Quinn stopped walking, hearing the voice in the distance. They lowered themselves and peeked over the cliff overlooking a road.

"Lift," a soldier ordered a group of people.

As the people continued, Quinn and Carl was able to see the helicopter the people were pulling.

"Crazy sonofabitch must actually think he can get the power going," Carl mumbled.

"Who?" Quinn asked.

"General Schuester," he answered. "If he does, imagine what he could do with one of those," he stated, eyeing the plane.

"What did those prisoners do," Quinn asked, studying the prisoners dressed in brown pants and yellow shirts.

"Most probably didn't pay their taxes." He studied the group. "That's Santana."

Quinn looked to see a Latina behind a fallen prisoner.

"Get up," the soldier ordered the tiered prisoner.

"Get up," Santana softly repeated to the man in front of her. "They're going to kill you. Get up."

"Get up, you lazy piece of crap. Get..."

The remains of the soldier's orders couldn't be heard over the sound of the prisoner being shot by the warden's rifle. The group of prisoners continued pulling the helicopter as if nothing had happened.

"I might be good with a sword, but I have jacksqwat against a riffle like that," Carl admitted.

* * *

As the soldier walked around the sleeping bodies, he heard a knocking sound. He left the camp to find the source.

Santana stared into the dark woods before feeling a hand touch her shoulder. "Buddy, I'll keep your hands off if..." She stopped catching Carl.

"Hi," Carl greeted. He moved around Santana and reached for the cuffs around her ankle.

"No," she whispered, fighting Carl. "Get out of here."

"These aren't even locked," Carl informed.

"That's because I picked it," Santana admitted, placing the cuff back on her ankle. "Go away."

"Hey," a prisoner called. "She doesn't want to go. Take me."

"Shut up," Santana said to the other prisoner.

"Let's go," Carl ordered, pushing Santana off the ground.

* * *

"I don't want to be rescued, and I sure in the hell didn't need to be," Santana admitted.

"You could have fooled me."

"I was there on purpose."

"Ya but... What?"

"I got arrested on purpose," she explained. "Give me some credit. I'm working a job."

"What job?"

"The sniper rifle," Santana answered. "I'm stealing the sniper rifle."

"You went through all that trouble for a rifle?" Quinn asked, breaking her silence.

Santana sent Quinn a mean look. "Who the hell is this?" she asked Carl.

"I'm his niece."

"You have family?"

"Most people do," Carl shrugged.

Santana rolled her eyes and looked at Quinn. "Yes, I went through all that trouble for a rifle. A bounty like that is priceless on the black market," she explained. "I was going to sneak up, slit the warden's throat, and take it, but that plan is out."

"How was I suppose to know that?" Carl asked, knowing Santana was blaming him.

"You weren't. You were suppose to stay the hell away from me."

"Can we at least get a thank you for risking our own lives?" Quinn asked with sass.

"Why is she even here?" Santana questioned Carl, irritated by Quinn.

"He's helping me," Quinn stated. "Militia took my brother and he's helping me get him back."

"What's your angle," Santana asked, watching Carl. She knew Carl wouldn't just help someone unless there was something for him.

"No angle. This is for real," Carl explained. "We need you to come with us."

"What if I don't want to go with you?"

"You owe me," Carl argued.

"For that amazing rescue?"

"Are you going to help us or not," Quinn said. "Either way I will get my brother."

Santana was taken back by the blonde's attitude. "You..."

"We could use you," Carl interrupted Santana before she could say anything to Quinn.

Santana slowly turned from Quinn to Carl. "Fine, I'll help, but we're getting the rifle first."

"You're not getting close to that rifle," Carl stated. "Not without him shooting you with it."

"We're getting that gun."

* * *

"It's not a colt 45, but It'll do the trick," Santana stated completing the homemade shooter.

"You're going to shoot the warden with this?" Carl asked, taking the small gadget.

"That's the idea." Santana admitted, taking the shooter from Carl.

"That thing only shoots from a foot away."

"I'll just sneak up."

"In broad daylight?" Carl doubted. "They know what you look like. They'll kill me on sight."

"I'll do it," Quinn volunteered. "Innocent girl lost in the woods. I can get close."

"I'm starting to like her," Santana admitted. Quinn's offer help Santana move past the attitude.

Carl shook his head. "Forget it."

"It a good idea," Santana admitted, walking up to Quinn. "She takes out the warden, and me and you take out the rest."

"She can't do it."

"I appreciate the concern, but..." Quinn started but was interrupted by Carl.

"You really can't do it. You will choke."

"I won't."

"You bitched about me killing someone in cold blood," Carl reminded. "You're just going to walk up and shoot somebody in the face for a rifle?"

"It's not about the sniper rifle, and it's not about you, or her," Quinn argued. "It's about the thirty innocent people working as slaves." Quinn watched Carl and Santana look to each other. "What do I have to do?"

* * *

"Lift," the soldier ordered the prisoners taking position to pull the helicopter. "Holt. Put it down."

Quinn froze, hearing the soldier order her. She slowly laid her crossbow on the ground. "I was just hunting. I got lost," she lied, watching the soldier coming towards her.

The soldier picked up the cross bow, and roughly grabbed Quinn's arm.

"Hey, take it easy." Quinn looked to see the warden watching them. "Bring her here," he ordered from on top of his horse.

The first thought that entered Quinn's head as she was pushed forward was "I'm going to do it. I'm about to kill my first human being."

Then, she began to think about the first time a human was killed in front of her.

* * *

"You have a beautiful daughter," the man complimented. "She has such a pretty face. I would hate having to smash it in. I want your food. All of it." The man moved his hand from Quinn's shoulder to the crown of her head. "I will snap her neck. Don't come any closer.

Mrs. Fabray stepped backwards, looking at her daughter's innocent face. "It's okay, baby. Everything's okay," she reinsured her daughter.

Mr. Fabray stepped out the school building and froze at the sight in front of him. "Let her go," he ordered pointing the gun at the man holding his child.

The man lowered himself to a squat. "You sure you wanna do that?" He used Quinn's little frame as a shield. "You wouldn't want to hit your little girl." The man knew he had won by the disappointed look on Mr. Fabray's face. Continuing to use the kid's body for protection, he began for the wagon of supplies. Sliding the wagon's handle into his hand, he released Quinn to run to her mother. He slowly backed away with the wagon.

"Stop," Mr. Fabray ordered.

The man obeyed. "I'm just trying to survive," he stated before turning. He took a few steps forward then fell to the ground.

Quinn stood paralyzed as she watched a dark puddle forming from under the body on the ground. She looked to her father to see his gun still pointed. She glanced up at her mother.

Mrs. Fabray pulled her daughter closer to her as she held a gun of her own tightly in her other hand. She slowly looked down into her child's green eyes. She just killed a man.

* * *

"So, you're lost, huh?" the warden asked once the blonde reached him. "Where you from?"

Quinn stared at her reflection in the warden's sunglasses. In a swift motion, she pressed the trigger of the shooter tied to her wrist. She had shot the warden in the chest. She watched the riffle fall away from the older man as his body fell off the horse. As she dove for the gun, a soldier rushed to her. Quinn rumbled with the soldier on the ground, not noticing Carl and Santana emerging from the woods to fight other soldiers.

After minutes of fighting, a loud bang was heard over the constant sound of tapping metal.

Carl turned to see his niece laying on the ground with the rifle tightly held to her. He was relieved to see Quinn look up at him. He turned his head to search for Santana.

Santana was leaned against a tree. Her hand covering her side. A dark stain grew on her yellow shirt. She was hit while fighting. "I'm fine," she yelled, holding her side. "Go help the prisoners."

* * *

Quinn sat, studying the scene in front of her- from the freed slaves to the dead soldiers.

"I gotta hand it to you. You did good," Carl complimented as he sat next to Quinn.

"I did good?"

"Yeah," he reassured. "All these people are free."

"I killed two men today," Quinn softly reported. "Maybe that's not a big deal for you; maybe it's another Monday, but it is to me. We shouldn't have to do this. This should be… I don't know."

"You are very unusual."

"What's that suppose to mean?"

"Its not an insult, Quinn," Carl said, hearing her slight offend tone.

Quinn and Carl turn, hearing Santana hiss in pain as she bandaged her cut.

Carl's chin dropped as he observed the latina with her back towards him. He stormed towards Santana. "When did you get that?" he asked, poking at the American flag tattooed on her shoulder blade.

"Just relax."

"You're not selling that sniper rifle, are you?" Carl asked. "You're going to give it to the resistance. You joined the rebels?"

"What rebels?" Quinn asked.

"A bunch of delusional bleeding heart..."

"Patriots," Santana corrected. "Patriots that will bring back the United States."

"They're going to lynch you on the spot for this," Carl announced.

"Maybe," Santana said with a shrug, "or maybe I'll take out Schuester first."

* * *

Emma stopped typing as she heard a knock on the door downstairs. She switched the computer off before leaving the attic to answer the door. The color drained out of Emma's face when she saw the large figure in front of her. She slammed the door and fled back to the attic. She hurried to lock the attic door as she heard her front door being kicked in. She turned the computer back on to send out a message.

BRAD IS HERE

Before Emma could get a respond, Brad was standing over her.

* * *

Mercedes sat in the office of what used to be a court house. She looked up from her writing to see General Schuester enter the room and take the seat in front of her.

"Morning Mercedes," Schuester greeted. "Are they treating you well here? I told them anything you want."

"What more could I possibly ask for?" Mercedes sarcastically asked with a smile. She swirled her pen between her fingers as she waited for the general to state his bisness. "Why are you here?"

"I have some bad news," he started off. "Russell's dead."

"You're lying," Mercedes sadly accused.

"I wish I was."

"I guess you were the one who killed him."

"Understand that was the last..." He stopped talking when Mercedes stood and turned the back toward him. "Sorry."

"Are we finished here?" She asked, wanting him to leave.

"No, there's something else," Will stated as he stood and neared her. "I have Sam."

Mercedes lowered her head at the information she was just give. Schuester had destroyed too many of her love one's lives . She was fed up. Overpowered by her thoughts, Mercedes's hand tightened around the pen. She forced her arm out, with intention to stab Will.

Will caught Mercedes's arm and held it behind her back. "No more games. You're going to talk."

* * *

**Thank you for reading. This was the ending of the 2nd episode.**

**I had to write most of this chapter from memory, so I apologize if you watched the show and noticed some differences. Some things were changed on purpose to fit the Glee characters. The site I use to watched the show has began to charge to watch episodes. Because I'm a bit of a ****cheapskate**, I'm ordering the series on DVD instead of paying $10 a month. While I wait for them I'll be finishing up my other story.

**I would like to start a website for this story. It would kind of be like a Wikia website. I would explain the chapters and the characters, and try to give clips of Revolution. I really would like your ****opinion** on that.

**Lastly I would like to thank the 69 people who read my last chapter. It means a lot.**


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